“Sometimes the Protector’s will and the means he uses ta bring it about seem like magic. I can’t say for certain that magic doesn’t exist, since the witch would tell you her evil power comes from magic. But I’m of the opinion that she possesses no power in and of herself, that ’tis the Deceiver working through her.”
My comprehension of her words was profound. “That’s why Gideon and his followers are out to get us. They think we’re pawns of the dark side?”
“Aye. They’ve forgotten the evil one isn’t the only one with power. The physical laws of nature do not apply to the one who created them.”
We were roughly the same age, and yet in that moment she seemed like a wise old soul. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a result of the slower aging process or something unique to Fiona.
“There’s something I don’t get …” I set down my plate and began to pace about the room to work out my thoughts. “If the Protector shields Doon from evil, why are people so freaked out about the witch?”
Fiona tipped her head. “Freaked out?”
“It means panicked—agitated. Why do they think the witch could have any influence here?”
Fiona looked at me kindly. “Because she kin. When Doon was blessed, the witch was cursed fer her evil ways. She’s forever connected ta us. As long as Doon prospers, she suffers terribly—her power is unsteady and weak. The only way the witch kin be free o’ the curse is fer her ta destroy Doon and all the inhabitants along with it.”
At the far end of the chamber, I pivoted, stage style, and retraced my steps. “But can she really do that? I mean, she was banished, right?”
“Aye, but even in banishment she’s still connected to us. Everything is a balance, Mackenna. Without the witch, we would not exist—at least no’ like this. There are times—windows—when Doon is verra vulnerable. This is one of them. And when Doon’s weak, the witch grows strong … as evidenced by the black petunias blossoming ‘round her cottage. And she’ll use any means she kin to get stronger. Even good people.”
“I’m sorry.” What else could I say? When the kingdom was most vulnerable, two American girls appear and everything goes sideways. They were right not to trust us.
She appraised me with her astute hazel eyes. “Dinna apologize. Ye’ve brought the Rings of Aontacht back ta Doon. And I suspect we’re going ta have need o’ them before this chapter in our history’s done. Trust me when I tell ye, there’s a purpose in all this.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Tired of Vee’s apologies, I launched a pillow at her head as evidence of my forgiveness. We both knew she was sorry and that she’d never intentionally do anything to harm Doon. Enough end-of-the-world angst already; I was ready to move on to the juicy stuff. Like the details Vee had so obviously omitted from her account the previous afternoon.
“Sooo—” I casually lounged on Duncan’s giant bed, swaddled in his massive robe. At discreet intervals, I sniffed the flannel fabric, drawing Duncan’s scent deep into my lungs. “Anything interesting happen between you and Jamie at the hunting lodge?”
Things had definitely changed between them. The king-to-be looked at her with a fierce possessiveness that did not make me want to do summersaults of joy for several reasons—the least of which was his very public entanglement with a teeny-weeny Italian.
Vee struggled for a moment. Her cheeks turned scarlet as a hint of a smile appeared and then melted from her face. “He kissed me.”
Underneath her neutrality, I could see she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. “Let me guess. The kiss was awful, like making out with a lizard.”
“It was a little more than a kiss actually, and it was—um—good.” Her tongue swiped across her upper lip as if she could still taste him.
“Even better than Eric?”
“Who?” For a minute, my best friend drew a blank. Her impending breakdown dissipated as she thought harder and then laughed. “Oh, him. No comparison.”